Dexter had had plenty of detail on Mr. Big, but nothing that threw any new light on the case. Mr. Big was forty-five years old, born in Haiti, half negro and half French. Because of the initial letters of his fanciful name, Buonaparte Ignace Gallia, and because of his huge height and bulk, he came to be called, even as a youth, 'Big Boy' or just 'Big'. Later this became 'The Big Man' or 'Mr. Big', and his real names lingered only on a parish register in Haiti and on his dossier with the FBI. He had no known vices2 except women, whom he consumed in quantities. He didn't drink or smoke .and his only Achilles heel appeared to be a chronic3 heart disease which had, in recent years, imparted a greyish tinge4 to his skin.
The Big Boy had been initiated5 into Voodoo as a child, earned his living as a truck-driver in Port au Prince, then emigrated to America and worked successfully for a hi-jacking team in the Legs Diamond gang. With the end of Prohibition6 he had moved to Harlem and bought half-shares in a small nightclub and a string of coloured call-girls. His partner was found in a barrel of cement in the Harlem River in 1938 and Mr. Big automatically became sole proprietor7 of the business. He was called up in 1943 and, because of his excellent French, came to the notice of the Office of Strategic Services, the wartime secret service of America, who trained him with great thoroughness and put him into Marseilles as an agent against the Petain collaborationists. He merged8 easily with African negro dock-hands, and worked well, providing good and accurate naval9 intelligence. He operated closely with a Soviet10 spy who was doing a similar job for the Russians. At the end of the war he was demobilized in France (and decorated by the Americans and the French) and then he disappeared for five years, probably to Moscow. He returned to Harlem in 1950 and soon came to the notice of the FBI as a suspected Soviet agent. But he never incriminated himself or fell into any of the traps laid by the FBI. He bought up three nightclubs and a prosperous chain of Harlem brothels. He seemed to have unlimited11 funds and paid all his lieutenants12 a flat rate of twenty thousand dollars a year. Accordingly, and as a result of weeding by murder, he was expertly and diligently13 served. He was known to have originated an underground Voodoo temple in Harlem and to have established a link between it and the main cult14 in Haiti. The rumour15 had started that he was the Zombie or living corpse16 of Baron17 Samedi himself, the dreaded18 Prince of Darkness, and he fostered the story so that now it was accepted through all the lower strata19 of the negro world. As a result, he commanded real fear, strongly substantiated20 by the immediate21 and often mysterious deaths of anyone who crossed him or disobeyed his orders.
Bond had questioned Dexter and Leiter very closely on the evidence connecting the giant negro with SMERSH. It certainly seemed conclusive22.
In 1951, by the promise of one million dollars in gold and a safe refuge after six months' work for them, the FBI had at last persuaded a known Soviet agent of the MWD to turn double. All went well for a month and the results exceeded the highest expectations. The Russian spy held the appointment of an economic expert on the Soviet delegation23 to the United Nations. One Saturday, he had gone to take the subway to Pennsylvania Station en route for the Soviet week-end rest camp at Glen Cove24, the former Morgan estate on Long Island.
A huge negro, positively25 identified from photographs as The Big Man, had stood beside him on the platform as the train came in and was seen walking towards the exit even before the first coach had come to a standstill over the bloody26 vestiges27 of the Russian. He had not been seen to push the man, but in the crowd it would not have been difficult. Spectators said it could not have been suicide. The man screamed horribly as he fell and he had had (melancholy touch!) a bag of golf clubs over his shoulder. The Big Man, of course, had had an alibi28 as solid as Fort Knox. He had been held and questioned, but was quickly sprung by the best lawyer in Harlem.
The evidence was good enough for Bond. He was just the man for SMERSH, with just the training. A real, hard weapon of fear and death. And what a brilliant set-up for dealing29 with the smaller fry of the negro underworld and for keeping a coloured information network well up to the mark! - the fear of Voodoo and the supernatural, still deeply, primevally ingrained in the negro subconscious30! And what genius to have, as a beginning, the whole transport system of America under surveillance, the trains, the porters, the truck-drivers, the stevedores31! To have at his disposal a host of key men who would have no idea that the questions they answered had been asked by Russia. Smalltime professional men who, if they thought at all, would guess that the information on freights and schedules was being sold to rival transport concerns.
Not for the first time, Bond felt his spine32 crawl at the cold, brilliant efficiency of the Soviet machine, and at the fear of death and torture which made it work and of which the supreme33 engine was SMERSH - SMERSH, the very whisper of death.
Now, in his bedroom at the St. Regis, Bond shook away his thoughts and jumped impatiently out of bed. Well, there was one of them at hand, ready for the crushing. At Royale he had only caught a glimpse of his man. This time it would be face to face. Big Man? Then let it be a giant, a homeric slaying34.
Bond walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. His room faced north, towards Harlem. Bond gazed for a moment towards the northern horizon, where another man would be in his bedroom asleep, or perhaps awake and thinking conceivably of him, Bond, whom he had seen with Dexter on the steps of the hotel. Bond looked at the beautiful day and smiled. And no man, not even Mr. Big, would have liked the expression on his face.
Bond shrugged35 his shoulders and walked quickly to the telephone.
'St. Regis Hotel. Good morning,' said a voice.
'Room Service, please,' said Bond.
'Room Service? I'd like to order breakfast. Half a pint36 of orange juice, three eggs, lightly scrambled37, with bacon, a double portion of cafe Espresso with cream. Toast. Marmalade. Got it?'
The order was repeated back to him. Bond walked out into the lobby and picked up the five pounds' weight of newspapers which had been placed quietly inside the door earlier in the morning. There was also a pile of parcels on the hall table which Bond disregarded.
The afternoon before he had had to submit to a certain degree of Americanization at the hands of the FBI. A tailor had come and measured him for two single-breasted suits in dark blue light-weight worsted (Bond had firmly refused anything more dashing) and a haberdasher had brought chilly38 white nylon shirts with long points to the collars. He had had to accept half a dozen unusually patterned foulard ties, dark socks with fancy clocks, two or three 'display kerchiefs' for his breast pocket, nylon vests and pants (called T-shirts and shorts), a comfortable light-weight camel-hair overcoat with over-buttressed shoulders, a plain grey snap-brim Fedora with a thin black ribbon and two pairs of hand-stitched and very comfortable black Moccasin 'casuals'.
He also acquired a 'Swank' tie-clip in the shape of a whip, an alligator-skin billfold from Mark Cross, a plain Zippo lighter39, a plastic 'Travel-Pak' containing razor, hairbrush and toothbrush, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with plain lenses, various other oddments and, finally, a light-weight Hartmann 'Skymate' suitcase to contain all these things.
He was allowed to retain his own Beretta .25 with the skeleton grip and the chamois leather shoulder-holster, but all his other possessions were to be collected at midday and forwarded down to Jamaica to await him.
He was given a military haircut and was told that he was a New Englander from Boston and that he was on holiday from his job with the London office of the Guaranty Trust Company. He was reminded to ask for the 'check' rather the 'bill', to say 'cab' instead of 'taxi' and (this from Leiter) to avoid words of more than two syllables40. ('You can get through any American conversation,' advised Leiter, 'with "Yeah", "Nope" and "Sure".') The English word to be avoided at all costs, added Leiter, was 'Ectually'. Bond had said that this word was not part of his vocabulary.
Bond looked grimly at the pile of parcels which contained his new identity, stripped off his pyjamas41 for the last time ('We mostly sleep in the raw in America, Mr. Bond') and gave himself a sizzling cold shower. As he shaved he examined his face in the glass. The thick comma of black hair above his right eyebrow42 had lost some of its tail and his hair was trimmed close across the temples. Nothing could be done about the thin vertical43 scar down his right cheek, although the FBI had experimented with 'Cover-Mark', or about the coldness and hint of anger in his grey-blue eyes, but there was the mixed blood of America in the black hair and high cheekbones and Bond thought he might get by - except, perhaps, with women.
Naked, Bond walked out into the lobby and tore open some of the packages. Later, in white shirt and dark blue trousers, he went into the sitting-room44, pulled a chair up to the writing-desk near the window and opened The Travellers Tree, by Patrick Leigh Fermor.
This extraordinary book had been recommended to him by M.
'It's by a chap who knows what he's talking about,' he said, 'and don't forget that he was writing about what was happening in Haiti in 1950. This isn't medieval black-magic stuff. It's being practised every day.'
Bond was half way through the section on Haiti.
The next step [he read] is the invocation of evil denizens45 of the Voodoo pantheon - such as Don Pedro, Kitta, Mondongue, Bakalou and Zandor - for harmful purposes, for the reputed practice (which is of Congolese origin) of turning people into zombies in order to use them as slaves, the casting of maleficent spells, and the destruction of enemies. The effects of the spell, of which the outward form may be an image of the intended victim, a miniature coffin46 or a toad47, are frequently stiffened48 by the separate use of poison. Father Gosme enlarged on the superstitions49 that maintain that men with certain powers change themselves into snakes; on the 'Loups-Garoups' that fly at night in the form of vampire50 bats and suck the blood of children; on men who reduce themselves to infinitesimal size and roll about the countryside in calabashes. What sounded far more sinister51 were a number of mystico-criminal secret societies of wizards, with nightmarish titles - 'les Mackanda', named after the poison campaign of the Haitian hero; 'les Zobop', who were also robbers; the 'Mazanxa', the 'Caporelata' and the 'Vlin-bindingue'. These, he said, were the mysterious groups whose gods demand - instead of a cock, a pigeon, a goat, a dog, or a pig, as in the normal rites52 of Voodoo - the sacrifice of a 'cabrit sans cornes'. This hornless goat, of course, means a human being…
Bond turned over the pages, occasional passages combining to form an extraordinary picture in his mind of a dark religion and its terrible rites.
… Slowly, out of the turmoil53 and the smoke and the shattering noise of the drums, which, for a time, drove everything except their impact from the mind, the details began to detach themselves… Backwards54 and forwards, very slowly, the dancers shuffled55, and at each step their chins shot out and their buttocks jerked upwards56, while their shoulders shook in double time. Their eyes were half closed and from their mouths came again and again the same incomprehensible words, the same short line of chanted song, repeated after each iteration, half an octave lower. At a change in the beat of the drums, they straightened their bodies, and flinging their arms in the air while their eyes rolled upwards, spun57 round and round… At the edge of the crowd we came upon a little hut, scarcely larger than a dog kennel58: 'Le caye Zombi'. The beam of a torch revealed a black cross inside and some rags and chains and shackles59 and whips: adjuncts used at the Ghede ceremonies, which Haitian ethnologists connect with the rejuvenation60 rites of Osiris recorded in the Book of the Dead. A fire was burning, in which two sabres and a large pair of pincers were standing61, their lower parts red with the heat: 'le Feu Marixiette', dedicated62 to a goddess who is the evil obverse of the bland63 and amorous64 Maitresse Erzulie Freda Dahomin, the Goddess of Love.
Beyond, with its base held fast in a socket65 of stone, stood a large black wooden cross. A white death's head was painted near the base, and over the crossbar were pulled the sleeves of a very old morning coat. Here also rested the brim of a battered66 bowler67 hat, through the torn crown of which the top of the cross projected. This totem, with which every peristyle must be equipped, is not a lampoon68 of the central event of the
Christian69 faith, but represents the God of the Cemeteries70 and the Chief of the Legion of the Dead, Baron Samedi. The Baron is paramount71 in all matters immediately beyond the tomb. He is Cerberus and Charon as well as Aeacus, Rhadamanthus and Pluto72.
… The drums changed and the Houngenikon came dancing on to the floor, holding a vessel73 filled with some burning liquid from which sprang blue and yellow flames. As he circled the pillar and spilt three flaming libations, his steps began to falter74. Then, lurching backwards with the same symptoms of delirium75 that had manifested themselves in his forerunner76, he flung down the whole blazing mass. The houncis caught him as he reeled, and removed his sandals and rolled his trousers up, while the kerchief fell from his head and laid bare his young woolly skull77. The other houncis knelt to put their hands in the flaming mud, and rub it over their hands and elbows and faces. The Houngan's bell and 'agon' rattled78 officiously and the young priest was left by himself, reeling and colliding against the pillar, helplessly catapulting across the floor, and falling among the drums. His eyes were shut, his forehead screwed up and his chin hung loose. Then, as though an invisible fist had dealt him a heavy blow, he fell to the ground and lay there, with his head stretching backwards in a rictus of anguish79 until the tendons of his neck and shoulders projected like roots. One hand clutched at the other elbow behind his hollowed back as though he were striving to break his own arm, and his whole body, from which the sweat was streaming, trembled and shuddered80 like a dog in a dream. Only the whites of his eyes were visible as, although his eye-sockets were now wide open, the pupils had vanished under the lids. Foam81 collected on his lips…
… Now the Houngan, dancing a slow step and brandishing82 a cutlass, advanced from the fireside, flinging the weapon again and again into the air, and catching83 it by the hilt. In a few minutes he was holding it by the blunted end of the blade. Dancing slowly towards him, the Houngenikon reached out and grasped the hilt. The priest retired84, and the young man, twirling and leaping, spun from side to side of the 'tonnelle'. The ring of spectators rocked backwards as he bore down upon them whirling the blade over his head, with the gaps in his bared teeth lending to his mandril face a still more feral aspect. The 'tonnelle' was filled for a few seconds with genuine and unmitigated terror. The singing had turned to a universal howl and the drummers, rolling and lolling with the furious and invisible motion of their hands, were lost in a transport of noise.
Flinging back his head, the novice85 drove the blunt end of the cutlass into his stomach. His knees sagged86, and his head fell forward…
There came a knock on the door and a waiter came in with breakfast. Bond was glad to put the dreadful tale aside and re-enter the world of normality. But it took him minutes to forget the atmosphere, heavy with terror and the occult, that had surrounded him as he read.
With breakfast came another parcel, about a foot square, expensive-looking, which Bond told the waiter to put on the sideboard. Some afterthought of Leiter's, he supposed. He ate his breakfast with enjoyment87. Between mouthfuls he looked out of the wide window and reflected on what he had just read.
It was only when he had swallowed his last mouthful of coffee and had lit his first cigarette of the day that he suddenly became aware of the tiny noise in the room behind him.
It was a soft, muffled88 ticking, unhurried, metallic89. And it came from the direction of the sideboard.
'Tick-tock… tick-tock… tick-tock.'
Without a moment's hesitation90, without caring that he looked a fool, he dived to the floor behind his armchair and crouched91, all his senses focused on the noise from the square parcel. 'Steady,' he said to himself. 'Don't be an idiot. It's just a clock.' But why a clock? Why should he be given a clock? Who by?
'Tick-tock… tick-tock… tick-tock.'
It had become a huge noise against the silence of the room. It seemed to be keeping time with the thumping92 of Bond's heart. 'Don't be ridiculous. That Voodoo stuff of Leigh Fermor's has put your nerves on edge. Those drums…'
'Tick-tock… tick-tock… tick-'
And then, suddenly, the alarm went off with a deep, melodious93, urgent summons.
'Tongtougtongtongtongtong…'
Bond's muscles relaxed. His cigarette was burning a hole in the carpet. He picked it up and put it in his mouth. Bombs in alarm clocks go off when the hammer first comes down on the alarm. The hammer hits a pin in a detonator, the detonator fires the explosive and WHAM…
Bond raised his head above the back of the chair and watched the parcel.
'Tongtongtongtongtong…'
The muffled gonging went on for half a minute, then it started to slow down.
'tong . . tong… tong… tong…tong…
'C-R-A-C-K…'
It was not louder than a 12-bore cartridge94, but in the confined space it was an impressive explosion.
The parcel, in tatters, had fallen to the ground. The glasses and bottles on the sideboard were smashed and there was a black smudge of smoke on the grey wall behind them. Some pieces of glass tinkled95 on to the floor. There was a strong smell of gunpowder96 in the room.
Bond got slowly to his feet. He went to the window and opened it. Then he dialled Dexter's number. He spoke97 levelly.
'Pineapple… No, a small one… only some glasses… okay, thanks… of course not… 'bye.'
He skirted the debris98, walked through the small lobby to the door leading into the passage, opened it, hung the DON'T DISTURB sign outside, locked it, and went through into his bedroom.
By the time he had finished dressing99 there was a knock on the door.
'Who is it?" he called.
'Okay. Dexter.'
Dexter hustled100 in, followed by a sallow young man with a black box under his arm.
'Trippe, from Sabotage,' announced Dexter.
They shook hands and the young man at once went on his knees beside the charred101 remnants of the parcel.
He opened his box and took out some rubber gloves and a handful of dentist's forceps. With his tools he painstakingly102 extracted small bits of metal and glass from the charred parcel and laid them out on a broad sheet of blotting103 paper from the writing-desk.
While he worked, he asked Bond what had happened.
'About a half-minute alarm? I see. Hullo, what's this?' He delicately extracted a small aluminium104 container such as is used for exposed film. He put it aside.
After a few minutes he sat up on his haunches.
'Half-minute acid capsule,' he announced. 'Broken by the first hammer-stroke of the alarm. Acid eats through thin copper105 wire. Thirty seconds later wire breaks, releases plunger on to cap of this.' He held up the base of a cartridge. '4-bore elephant gun. Black powder. Blank. No shot. Lucky it wasn't a grenade. Plenty of room in the parcel. You'd have been damaged. Now let's have a look at this.' He picked up the aluminium cylinder106, unscrewed it, extracted a small roll of paper, and unravelled107 it with his forceps.
He carefully flattened108 it out on the carpet, holding its corners down with four tools from his black box. It contained three typewritten sentences. Bond and Dexter bent109 forward.
'THE HEART OF THIS CLOCK HAS STOPPED TICKING,' they read. 'THE BEATS OF YOUR OWN HEART ARE NUMBERED, I KNOW THAT NUMBER AND I HAVE STARTED TO COUNT.'
The message was signed '1234567…?' They stood up.
'Hm,' said Bond. 'Bogeyman stuff.'
'But how the hell did he know you were here?' asked Dexter.
Bond told him of the black sedan on 55th Street.
'But the point is,' said Bond, 'how did he know what I was here for? Shows he's got Washington pretty well sewn up. Must be a leak the size of the Grand Canyon110 somewhere.'
'Why should it be Washington?' asked Dexter testily111. 'Anyway,' he controlled himself with a forced laugh, 'Hell and damnation. Have to make a report to Headquarters on this. So long, Mr. Bond. Glad you came to no harm.'
'Thanks,' said Bond. 'It was just a visiting-card. I must return the compliment.'
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1
luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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Soviet
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| adj.苏联的，苏维埃的；n.苏维埃 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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lieutenants
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| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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strata
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| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
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substantiated
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| v.用事实支持（某主张、说法等），证明，证实( substantiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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delegation
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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vestiges
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| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
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alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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dealing
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subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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stevedores
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| n.码头装卸工人，搬运工( stevedore的名词复数 ) | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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slaying
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| 杀戮。 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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pint
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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47
toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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48
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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49
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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vampire
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| n.吸血鬼 | |
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51
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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53
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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54
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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58
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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rejuvenation
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| n. 复原，再生, 更新, 嫩化, 恢复 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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63
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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67
bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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lampoon
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| n.讽刺文章；v.讽刺 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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cemeteries
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| n.（非教堂的）墓地，公墓( cemetery的名词复数 ) | |
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paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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Pluto
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| n.冥王星 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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forerunner
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| n.前身，先驱（者），预兆，祖先 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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81
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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82
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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88
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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96
gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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97
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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98
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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99
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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100
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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101
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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102
painstakingly
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| adv. 费力地 苦心地 | |
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103
blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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104
aluminium
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| n.铝 (=aluminum) | |
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105
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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106
cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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107
unravelled
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| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的过去式和过去分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
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108
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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109
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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110
canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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111
testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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